


(Crazy 'Bout A) Sharp-Dressed Man

by imaginary_golux



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Gloves, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Suit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7108123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a kinkmeme prompt: Finn gets dressed up for a formal event. Poe gets a little...flustered. Inspired by the pictures of John Boyega in that gorgeous purple suit.</p>
<p>Beta by my lovely Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Crazy 'Bout A) Sharp-Dressed Man

“So, how do I look?” Finn asks.

Poe turns from the mirror where he’s been fighting with his tie - he doesn’t like ties, they’re so damn finicky - and stops dead. “Ah,” he says. “Hnnnng.”

Finn raises an eyebrow curiously. “That good?” he asks.

He is wearing _purple_ , which Poe would not have chosen because clearly Poe is an _idiot_ , purple is the best color on Finn, Finn should wear purple at all times, Poe will just have to buy out the galaxy’s supply of purple clothing in Finn’s size because _holy Force_. And then, once Poe gets past the sheer glory of the way purple looks on Finn, there’s the way the suit fits his shoulders, the line of the creases on his pants, the -

Oh. Oh holy kriffing _hell_. Finn is wearing gloves. Black leather gloves.

Why is Finn wearing black leather gloves?

Better question: why is Finn not _always_ wearing black leather gloves?

“Yeah,” Poe says through a dry throat. “That good, buddy.”

“Hmm,” says Finn, rather smugly, and offers Poe his arm. Poe takes a moment to wonder when, precisely, Finn learned to do that - probably the same shopping trip where he bought that wonderful, terrible, perfect purple suit - and takes it. His tie is good enough. No one’s going to be looking at him, anyway, not with Finn looking like _that_.

The party is good enough, Poe supposes, for a formal party - he prefers the pilots’ parties, all bad booze and loud music and really filthy dancing, laughter and ill-advised games and kissing couples (and more than couples) in the corners where they’re not really hidden but everyone ignores them anyhow. But for a party with staid, formal dancing and little trays of tidbits and glasses of high-class alcohol, this one isn’t bad.

This is mostly because he spends large fractions of the party watching Finn charm the daylights out of _everyone_. And empathizing more than a little with the large numbers of people who take one look at Finn and go wide-eyed and hungry looking, because yeah. Yeah. Kriff, that suit should probably be illegal. It’s almost definitely immoral. Poe wants to do really, really filthy things to Finn in that suit.

(Mind, he wants to do filthy things to Finn _all_ the time, but...that suit. Dear Force. Maybe if he is very lucky he will get to help Finn take it off.)

And then one of the waiters offers Finn a tray of little tidbits-on-crackers, and Finn glances over at Poe and flashes him a truly wicked smirk and lifts one gloved hand to his face and _sets his teeth into one of the leather fingers_ and peels his glove off with his kriffing gorgeous _mouth_.

Poe doesn’t actually make a noise, because he’s too stunned even to _breathe_. He just stands there, still as stone, while Finn tucks the glove into a pocket and takes a little tidbit off the tray with his bare hand and smiles at the waiter and eats the tidbit, licking his fingers happily - Poe sways a little, thinking vaguely that breathing again might be a good idea - and then turns and tucks his arm around Poe’s again, tugs Poe off towards another little knot of people who Finn hasn’t charmed yet.

Poe stumbles along in his wake, cheeks burning with a desperate, helpless flush, and manages to smile cheerfully at the next people who greet him, but can’t find any words. Thankfully, Finn is there to be charming and sweet and enthusiastic and _too kriffing hot for words_ with his arm warm and steady under Poe’s hand and his still-gloved hand gesturing eagerly as he explains something.

And the evening wears on, and Poe trails around after Finn feeling less and less capable of _coping_ with this, this is not _fair_ , he is going to find whoever told Finn to buy that suit and - and - and probably thank them, because damn. He does manage to talk to a couple of people and thank goodness he can sass on autopilot - and let’s be real, the reason Leia asked him to come to this party was because ‘Poe Dameron, snarky hotshot pilot who blew up Starkiller’ is someone the people she’s trying to charm into supporting the Resistance want to see, just the way ‘Finn no-last-name-yet-but-Poe-is-working-on-it, beautiful ex-Stormtrooper who made the Starkiller attack possible’ is someone people want to meet, just to be able to say they shook his hand. So Poe _does_ talk to people, he’s almost sure of it, and they go away smiling, but Poe is honestly not really paying as much attention as he should be, because Finn’s _hands_. And his _shoulders_. And the way the purple suit almost shimmers as he moves.

It gets worse when the dancing starts in earnest and Finn turns to Poe with a hopeful look and Poe can’t do anything but follow him out onto the dance floor - and the dancing lessons that Poe has been giving Finn, combined with Finn’s own natural grace, have paid off in _spades_ , he spins Poe around on the dance floor with an ease that startles even Poe, and Poe follows his lead and leans into the warm weight of Finn’s hands and tries very hard not to swoon.

It’s quite late, and the bright lights and constant chatter and effort required to not just jump Finn in the middle of the dance floor are starting to get to be a bit much for Poe, but he’s still a little surprised when Finn pauses near a doorway, glances around, and then tugs Poe gently out onto an unlit balcony, closing the door softly behind them and stepping to one side so they’re well out of sight. The night air is cool and the stars are very bright and far away.

“Whew,” says Finn, leaning back against the balcony railing and grinning at Poe. “That’s...a lot of people in there. Think the General will mind if we take a bit of a break?”

Poe shakes his head. “You’ve been making friends right and left,” he assures Finn, grinning. “As long as we make it back by the end of the party, we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah?” Finn asks, looking hopeful, and Poe can’t bear it anymore, crowds up against Finn and kisses him hard. Finn curls his arms around Poe and kisses back, humming contentment against Poe’s mouth. “Wondered how long you’d hold out,” he murmurs as they pull away to catch their breaths, and Poe sputters.

“You - you _planned_ this,” he accuses. Finn smirks.

“Jess said the suit looked good on me,” he says. “I thought maybe you’d agree.”

“I am going to - to - to buy Jess a whole bag of that horrible milk candy she likes,” Poe says. “And then yell at her for not _warning_ me, Force dammit.”

“But where would the fun have been in that?” Finn asks, grin widening. “I wouldn’t have got to see the look on your face.”

“Believe me, buddy, nothing could have _actually_ prepared me for how good you look in that suit,” Poe assures him. “I have been wanting to jump you _all kriffing night_.”

“Hmm,” says Finn, and gives Poe a look which ought to be illegal. “Well. Nothing’s stopping you.”

“ _Kriff_ ,” says Poe hoarsely, and his knees are hitting the marble of the balcony’s floor before he really thinks about it, his hands scrabbling at the fastenings of those obscenely well-fitted pants. Finn chuckles above him, the sound dark and rich and glorious, and combs his fingers through Poe’s hair.

“You are a tease, a kriffing awful _tease_ ,” Poe mutters, and then he’s got Finn’s pants open, discovers to his mingled horror and delight that Finn _isn’t wearing anything under them_ , and follows the gentle pressure of Finn’s hands forward, opens his mouth and swallows Finn’s cock down, no finesse or elegance to it, just raw hunger and desperation.

Finn makes a soft, hoarse noise - he’s never loud when they have sex, legacy of years in barracks - and his hands cradle Poe’s head gently, so gently, and Poe whimpers around his mouthful and tries his best to express with tongue and lips and careful teeth exactly how much of a tease Finn has been this evening. And - Finn’s suit-pants sleek under Poe’s grasping hands, the sight of him with his head tipped back against the starry sky, the dark gleam of his suitcoat in the reflected light from the party still going on behind the balcony doors - Poe can’t really help moaning, pressing forward, doing his best to make Finn come _apart_. And Finn does, shakes beneath Poe’s hands and mouth and spills hot and salty down Poe’s throat with the quiet, beautiful sound which Poe has come to love so well.

And then Finn tugs Poe gently to his feet, tucks him into the curve of the wall with Finn’s broad shoulders blocking out everything but the stars above them, unfastens Poe’s pants with unfairly clever fingers and wraps his gloved hand firmly around Poe’s cock.

Oh kriff, _leather_. Poe bites down on his own fist to muffle the sounds he knows he’s going to make, scrabbles at Finn’s shoulder with the other, arches up into the perfect, lovely pressure and sleek warmth of Finn’s hand and gets a sudden, flashing, glorious mental image of how that must _look_ , black leather and paler skin, Finn’s dexterous fingers elegant and sleek, and comes whimpering into Finn’s hand.

Finn chuckles softly, produces a handkerchief from somewhere and uses it to gently wipe Poe clean and tucks him away again, and then he holds his stained, sticky glove up to Poe’s lips, coaxing Poe’s bitten hand away, and Poe makes a noise that sounds like it’s been torn out of him and curls his fingers around Finn’s wrist and licks that glove until it’s shining clean again.

“Kriff,” Finn murmurs, quiet and almost awed. “That mouth of yours is a _menace_ , Poe Dameron.”

“You’re a menace in that _suit_ ,” Poe retorts, rather weakly.

“So I gathered,” Finn says smugly. They stand there quietly for a few minutes, trading lazy kisses, the stars shining brightly over Finn’s shoulder, and then Finn sighs and steps back and peels his glove off, tucks it into his pocket with the other one, and straightens his clothes, and offers Poe his arm. “We should probably head back in.”

“Yeah,” Poe says, getting his own clothes back in order and taking Finn’s arm with a grin. “But later, buddy, we will be revisiting this conversation.”

“Oh will we,” says Finn, grinning back. “I look forward to it.”

Poe’s still grinning as they step back into the ballroom, and if it’s a bit more ‘smug’ than ‘politely friendly,’ well, _he_ just got lucky with his boyfriend, the most beautiful man in the room, and the evening’s not over yet.

He has reason to be smug.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr! It is imaginarygolux.tumblr.com and I don't know what I'm doing but I'm having fun; feel free to drop by and ask questions or say hi!


End file.
